


Homecoming

by anachronism



Series: A Phone Call Away [3]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Bromance, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 17:50:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4109683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anachronism/pseuds/anachronism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been seven years since they've seen each other and it's like he never left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> I've read this so many times I'm not sure if there are any mistakes. All the same, enjoy!

Tony Stark showed up at Wayne Manor unannounced, but with all the air of someone that was expected. That is to say, he drove up the driveway in a flashy car and nodded amiably at Alfred as he let himself in.

Alfred seemed more amused than anything.

“Bruce Wayne, back from the dead,” Tony said as he approached him. “I’m glad to see the rumors are true. When’s the Welcome Home party?”

“We’re working on it,” Bruce nodded at the staff who were working on the early birthday preparations.”

“The old two-for-one,” Tony nodded. “If I were you I’d just throw two separate parties.”

“I know you would.”

“It’s a lot more fun.”

Bruce found that he was smiling. “How long can you stay?”

“Only a few hours.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

Alfred chose that moment to cut in. “Perhaps I can prepare something for the both of you. That is, if Mr. Stark doesn’t mind breakfast at this hour.”

Tony glanced at his watch and raised his eyebrows at Bruce, only just taking in his robe, pajama pants and conspicuous lack of socks. “You _have_ been partying,” he accused. “Without me. I think I’m hurt. You haven’t even called.”

“I meant to.” And he had, really, but what with his new nocturnal hobby and the balancing act that had become his life he hadn’t yet had the time. “If it helps, I haven’t called anyone else.”

“Hm, well, you’re forgiven I suppose. Coming back from the dead sounds like tedious business.”

They somehow ended up at the kitchen table, despite Alfred’s initial attempts to usher them to a nearby dining room. Tony prattled on about everything important he thought Bruce ought to know and Bruce shared a few of his more amusing stories since his return to Gotham.

Then the conversation took an unexpected turn.

“So, are we going to talk about Batman?”

Bruce shrugged. “I’m not much of a fan myself, but I guess we can if you want to.”

“Very smooth. If I didn’t know any better I never would have guessed you were bluffing.”

Bruce put on a politely confused face. “Bluffing?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Can we skip the part where you give me the runaround and go straight to the part where you admit you’re him?”

Bruce exchanged a look with Alfred who was quietly tidying the kitchen. Alfred merely raised his eyebrows and went back to wiping down countertops. “I didn’t think I was that obvious,” Bruce said.

“The only obvious thing here is that no one in this city really knows you, seeing as how you’re getting away with this care-free, half-brained show of yours. No one’s asking you questions about where you’ve been because you’ve done such a good job of distracting them with flash and glamour that they’ve forgotten you were ever declared dead in the first place. So in reality, you’ve done a great job of being the exact opposite of obvious. You’re also the exact opposite of the intelligent, angry person you’ve always been.”

“I didn’t spend much time working on my education after I was expelled from Princeton.” Bruce’s expression was guileless and very, _Oh no, I’m so embarrassed. Can we change the subject now please?_

Somewhere in the past seven years, Bruce had learned how to act. “Bullshit,” Tony declared.

Bruce laughed. “Let’s take this conversation downstairs.”

“There’s a downstairs?” Tony followed Bruce to a small sitting room. “I don’t remember there being a downstairs.”

Bruce tapped out three pairs of discordant notes on a piano. A hidden panel swung open. “There is now.”

xxxxx

When Tony first saw Bruce’s armor he thought, _There you are._ The Batman suit was all sharp edges and dark, unadulterated fury. It was everything Bruce had played close to the vest in their younger years, given form and function. Brought to life.

“So what you’re telling me is that you’re a ninja.”

“I – yes. The last seven years of my life can be condensed down to one fact. I am a ninja.”

“This is ridiculous. You know that right?” Tony hefted a throwing star in his hand. How did a person not injure themselves with these? “But I guess it suits you.”

“Why, thank you.”

“Careful you don’t hurt yourself with that sharp tongue.”

Bruce visibly restrained himself from rolling his eyes. “I need you to do me a favor.”

Tony drifted over to the computers. “Hmm?”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

He looked up. “You think I’d tell someone about this? I’m hurt.”

“With you, it sometimes needs to be said,” Bruce was entirely unapologetic. “Remember when -”

“Yes, yes, alright.” Tony waved his hand. “Consider it done. But I need you to do something for me in return.”

“What?”

“Keep in touch.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows.

“I’m serious B. I don’t want to have to wait another seven years to hear from you again. And now that you’re doing, well, this, it’d be nice if you checked in every once-in-a-while. I don’t want to hear from Alfred that you’ve gone and gotten yourself killed for real.”

“Alright. Deal.”

“Great.”

“…Your confidence in me is inspiring.” 

“Oh, shut up.”


End file.
